


My Only My Own

by FailSafePrime



Series: We Will Face it All Together [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: FieldAgent!Q, Homecoming, Hurt!Q, James And Q are married, M/M, Q is a Double-Oh, Songfic, When the Sky Falls AU, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailSafePrime/pseuds/FailSafePrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the same universe as <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1399279">My Love is Deep</a></p><p>Q comes home from a mission and James goes out to meet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Only My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this picture](https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10202417789060039&set=gm.305811639576828&type=1&theater) on the 00Q group on facebook.
> 
> [My Only My Own](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6AHMF3H7kA) by Heather Dale.

~*~

James Bond sat alone at a window in the flat he shared with his husband with a glass of scotch in his hand. The light from the street lamps outside were the only source of illumination in the flat, throwing his face into shadow. Next door, a young couple was having a romantic night in. He could hear the music drifting through the open windows.

It had been twelve days since Quinn left for his mission in Israel, eight since he went off grid. Ordinarily, James couldn't worry overmuch; Double-Ohs went off grid mid-mission all the time; but according to the Quartermaster, Quinn had been injured and under heavy fire at the time. Under such circumstances, an agent going off grid was never a good sign. Worry gnawed at blonde's stomach as he considered what he knew about the mission and the description Boothroyd had given him of the events that led to Quinn's disappearance. James glared at his reflection in the window. M had sent an agent with Quinn for support, an agent who had been dead weight from the beginning and had been killed when the shooting had started. And here he was; Commander James Bond of the Royal Navy, the infamous 007, worrying helplessly at home for his husband like a housewife of a military man.

Next door, the music changed to a woman's voice singing sweetly and mournfully.

_"Where have you gone,_  
 _My only, my own?_  
 _How far have you flown from me?_  
 _The work of our hands_  
 _Built a beautiful ship.  
_ _How could I begrudge you the sea?_

_Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?_  
 _Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?"_

James closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the chilly glass.

"Quinn..." the name slipped from his lips like a prayer.

Seven days was the longest any Double Oh ever disappeared unexpectedly. Every seven days if possible, they would check in, even if it was just a postcard. Certainly it would take time if Quinn did send a postcard, but Israel was a volatile place, and with the support agent dead, Quinn would have no one to watch his back. What if something happened? What if Quinn was captured? God, what if he was dead?

A sudden blare of noise cut through the silent room. James jerked upright and stared across the darkened living room at his mobile, the screen flashing brightly in the dark even as it rang. He lunged across the room, dropping the glass, heedless of the scotch that spilled out and soaked into the carpet as a wild, desperate hope filled him. He grabbed up the mobile.

Unknown number.

Could it be? Was it Quinn? God, please let it be Quinn...

"Bond," he answered the phone.

The voice that replied was rough with exhaustion but was beloved and familiar and sent a thrill down his spine. **"James."**

"Quinn!"

_Where have you gone,_  
 _My only, my own?_  
 _What far-away sights have you seen?_  
 _Has the world become real?_  
 _Has your home become small?_  
 _Has your future eclipsed where you've been?_

_Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?_  
 _Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?_

Quinn searched the docks for James as he shifted the rucksack containing what was left of Q's equipment he'd been able to save as he disembarked from the cargo ship his contact had gotten him a place on. He'd have rather flown back to London, but he had been forced to destroy the papers and identification he'd used to get into Israel. He would have to see M for his debriefing so Tanner knew to get someone in Tel Aviv to smooth things over just in case he had to go to Israel again, but for now, Quinn was exhausted and his arm, broken when that idiot agent had blown both their covers, ached something awful. He just wanted a decent cup of tea, some curry, his husband, and his lovely, soft bed. And not necessarily in that order.

The crowd thinned and Quinn saw him.

God, he was glorious. James was wearing denim trousers that showed off the tempting curve of his buttocks and hinted at the graceful line of his calves. The brown leather jacket showed off strong, broad shoulders and the t-shirt tucked into the trousers was just a little tight across his chest. He didn't have to see his husband's ice blue eyes, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, to know James had not slept well in a while. The proof was in the lines on his forehead. Still, James looked delicious and Quinn's mouth watered and he saw the corner of James's lips tilt upward with amusement, the damnable man.

But James' obvious joy to see him was infectious. Screw subtle, Quinn decided and threw his arms around his husband's neck, resting his injured arm just above the small of his back. James's arms wrapped around him and Quinn knew just how worried James had been by how tightly the other man held him.

He turned his head so his lips were next to James's ear and murmured, "Take me home, James."

Reluctantly, James released him but his hand never left the small of Quinn's back as they made their way to the Jaguar that Boothroyd had given them on their wedding.

_And when you return,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _Bring me back tales of the sea._  
 _Bring me pockets of gold,_  
 _Or a shirt full of holes._  
 _It'll make little difference to me._

_Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?_  
 _Alone, alone,_  
 _My only, my own,_  
 _When will you return to me?_

Quinn, naked and hair slightly damp from his shower, was spooned against James in their bed. He relished the feeling of James's warm skin against his and reveled in the steady thumping of his heart. He sighed, content. James's arms tightened around him.

"Welcome home, Quinn," James whispered.

Quinn turned his head to kiss the crook of James' elbow. "I'll always come back, my own."

James nipped his shoulder. "I know." Quinn turned as James shifted up and over and captured his lips.

_When will you return to me?  
When will you return to me?_

~*~

Finite


End file.
